Page 35 of To Serve a Laird
“Where did you learn to do that?” Iain asked. “Has there been someone else?”
Claire laughed. “From a book, of course,” she replied. “I don’t just read silly romances and adventure stories, my Laird. I taught myself many things, although that is the first time I have used that kind of knowledge.”
“I am happy I was the one you got to practise on, Claire,” Iain said, grinning. He put his arms around her and held her close for a moment.
“I am happy too, my Laird,” she assured him.
“Call me Iain when we’re alone,” he told her, then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her again.
It began gently, but deepened into something fiery and intense, and when it was over, they stood for a long time in each other’s arms, both of them unwilling to let go.
16
Claire slept like a baby until just before dawn, and as she relived her sensual experience with Iain, she found herself unable to get back to sleep. He had appeared in her dreams and she was so delighted she was actually annoyed to wake up, but when she did, the whole experience came rushing back to her again, but with it, a flood of common sense.
After that, there was no sleeping at all, and Claire sneaked out to the library just as the sun was coming up to select a book that would teach her more about the pleasures of the flesh.
She had read only a few pages when she began to wonder why she had bothered. After all, the whole encounter had meant a lot to her, but she doubted whether Iain felt the same. Now she pondered about how she could face him again without rushing into his arms and making a complete fool of herself.
She remembered the moment when they had finally come together, when she had discovered at last what it meant to be a woman in the true sense. As well as that, she was overjoyed that the man who had taken her was Iain, but could she say that what they had done was making love, or was it merely a sexual encounter?
Do I love him?Claire wondered.And does he love me?
That was the moment that she realised what her own feelings were. She did love Iain, but she reminded herself yet again that Iain was a Laird, and she was a pauper with nothing to offer him. If the clan ever forced him to marry, it would likely be to an heiress, who would no doubt bring a treasure chest with her. Yet, he seemed to be resisting marriage with every fibre of his being.
Claire sighed and shook her head. She had to be realistic. She had had a wonderful experience, and had some enjoyable and sensual memories to treasure, but she was not naïve enough to believe that they would be repeated.
She had gone to her new chamber and had been surprised at the space, and the fact that it had a desk, chair, and writing materials. This filled her with joy and gratitude, since she could now communicate with her sisters without having to sneak to the library.
As well as that, she was delighted to see the two new dresses, one navy blue, one brown, laid out on her bed. They were the same as the one she was wearing, but her present one was old, worn, patched, and always made her feel like a tramp or a beggar. They were only maids’ uniforms, of course, but she felt smart and stylish when she put one of them on. However, she knew that she would have to run the gauntlet of the other women’s ridicule when she went into the kitchen, and was not disappointed.
“Look at this smart Sassenach,” Lorna cried scornfully, looking Claire up and down. “I wonder what ye had tae dae tae get that?” She winked at the others, her meaning quite clear, and there was a gale of laughter.
Claire, more confident due to her new position, answered, “Is that the voice of experience?”
There was a sudden silence as Claire walked away.
She went into Iain’s study, trying to slow down her racing heart. He looked, if anything, even more handsome than usual, but perhaps that was her fevered imagination, Claire thought.
“You are looking very smart today, Claire,” he remarked with a mischievous smile. “I see that the dress fits you very well. Perhaps I should make sure that the undergarments do too.”
Claire curtsied as she usually did out of force of habit, but she felt her cheeks flaming with embarrassment, and could not meet his eyes.
“Thank you for your concern… Iain,” she replied, trying to keep her voice from trembling, “I can assure you that they fit well. But if I find any fault with them, I am now very handy with a needle.”
“A needle, eh? That sounds dangerous.”
He sat down behind his desk, still laughing. He loved teasing her, if only to see her reactions, the expression of barely suppressed anger, genuine amusement or crimson-faced embarrassment.
After what they had done the night before, he had barely been able to sleep for thinking about Claire. Now, watching her as she worked, he was tempted to wrap his arms around her and beg her to let him make love to her properly, to allow him to make her his own.
Claire, her heart still racing, placed Iain’s breakfast tray on the table and then went about her normal tedious chores; brushing the floor and dusting the shelves as well as washing the windows, which was something Agnes had reminded her to do.
The windows were enormous, and it would take her a few hours, she knew, but that was fine. In fact, she decided to work as slowly as she could in order to keep her face turned away most of the time and not have to look at Iain, except when she gave him his meals.
She loved looking at him, of course, but when she thought of what they had done a few hours earlier, her courage failed her.
She was glad when he went outside to speak to his steward after his midday meal, since it gave her a chance to relax. This usually lasted about an hour, after which he would resume his work with renewed concentration, saying very little.
